


like the sea

by treescape



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Growing Up, Kyber Crystals, Lightsabers, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Self Understanding, Self-Doubt, lineage feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26867470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: When he was thirteen years old, Obi-Wan determined that Qui-Gon Jinn was a mystery.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 38
Kudos: 79
Collections: Backwards QuiObi Bang





	like the sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyber-erso (aoraki)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoraki/gifts).



> This was written for the Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan Discord Server's Reverse Big Bang, and is based on the absolutely stunning art by [kyber-erso](https://kyber-erso.tumblr.com/) below.
> 
> Many thanks to [outpastthemoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outpastthemoat) for the beta! <3

When he was thirteen years old, Obi-Wan determined that Qui-Gon Jinn was a mystery. He was a whirlwind of power, yet as calm as a sea at rest. He towered over creatures great and small, yet seemed able to disappear at will. He was implacable and stubborn to his core, yet as wise and persuasive as the Force.

Somehow, Qui-Gon managed to be everything at once and yet something entirely his own. In the quieter moments of their days, Obi-Wan would watch his new Master and try to puzzle him out, but he only ever seemed to get this far:

Qui-Gon Jinn was the perfect Jedi, and Obi-Wan would give anything to be just like him.

But some things were easier wished than done.

\---

He couldn’t help but wonder if Qui-Gon was disappointed in the scrap of a boy who had become his Padawan, a creature so entirely different from himself. Against the dignity and stature of his Master, Obi-Wan catalogued his own flaws. It was a simple enough task, for one trained to mind the world around him since infancy; he singled them out one by one, like loose threads in a cloak.

There was no power, there was frailty, a slenderness of body that time and training might never redress.

There was no serenity, there was hastiness, an impatience of heart like waves that broke on the shore.

There was no wisdom, there was innocence, an inexperience of soul he feared was more than just youth.

In the quiet of evening or luminous dawn, he tried to watch himself with his Master’s eyes. It was too much to hope that Qui-Gon might miss how he stumbled, his words and his limbs too awkward as he grew. If anything, Qui-Gon could surely see faults that Obi-Wan didn’t even know how to look for. It was unfathomable to imagine Qui-Gon experiencing such things as _inadequacy_ and _lack_. Obi-Wan might almost think them incomprehensible to him, except that the thought verged too close on divining lapse.

Obi-Wan had never been good at resignation, but he began to wonder if he would have to learn.

He just wasn’t sure he knew how.

\---

If Obi-Wan could not follow his Master in most ways, he held out hope on one.  


“A lightsaber is a Jedi’s life,” Qui-Gon explained gravely one evening. His fingers dismantled the hilt of his weapon, movements sure and precise in the simple warmth of their quarters. Obi-Wan had heard the words from other teachers in the past, but he listened intently all the same. “Do you know why, Padawan?”

“It defends you, Master,” Obi-Wan replied immediately, because the answer was as obvious as rain.

His Master smiled, eyes rising above the narrow expanse of the table between them. “Yes, it can mean the difference between life and death. But just as importantly, its crystal becomes bound to you, Obi-Wan, as much a part of you as your own heart.”

Day in and day out, Qui-Gon’s saber hung at his belt, a continual presence. Obi-Wan had seen him wield it, a blaze of green alight in his hands—green like the Temple gardens, like the forests of Kashyyyk, like the mountain meadows of Alderaan. It was peace and harmony and growth. There was nothing Obi-Wan could think of that suited Qui-Gon more.

And so it was, some few months into his apprenticeship, that Obi-Wan went to Ilum with hope in his heart. The sharpness of ice in the air took his breath away, but he clung to the warmth of its promise.

If the right kyber called, that ice would flower into contentment.

But when they left, the light of a blue crystal shone between fingers bone-white.

\---

In the months following Ilum, Obi-Wan could sometimes feel his Master’s gaze. They travelled to Corellia, to Ryloth, to Ord Mandell, and every step Obi-Wan took was weighted by the new responsibility that hung at his belt.

It was a weight he had dreamt of for years, but that didn’t make it less of an adjustment.

To feel disappointment seemed a betrayal of the crystal that sang at his side. That bond held the depth of a sea and more, and he would not choose to forsake it for aught. But it was difficult, still, not to gauge the differences between his Master and himself.

On Mon Cala, Qui-Gon finally asked the question that lingered in his eyes. As they disembarked from their ship in Foamwater City, hovering on the surface of the sea, Qui-Gon’s voice was like water and wind. “Are you alright, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan floundered in the expanse of that voice, not entirely certain what to say. To admit his failures would be a defeat, and to hide them a lie, but he imagined Qui-Gon would not falter for words.

“I had thought….” He looked at the sea beyond that hangar, spread before him like glass, and forged ever on. “I had thought to be just like you.”

It was diplomatic of him, he thought, and a compromise, of sorts. It was a hope for the future as much as a failing of past and present.

Qui-Gon only looked at him for a long moment, and then turned to the sea as well. “I see.” With the wind in his hair and his arms folded into the sweep of his sleeves, he looked as one with the world and yet somehow entirely apart. “What do you see before us, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan frowned, for the answer seemed far too easy. “I see the sea, Master.”

“Describe it to me.”

Obi-Wan’s brow wanted to furrow, but he urged his face to composure. He wondered what his master saw, to ask such a question. “I see sun on the water,” he said carefully, his eyes picking out details one by one. “I see waves, and the thinness of the line between water and sky.” He peered into the deep, and tried to discern what Qui-Gon wanted to hear. “I see depth, and darkness, and light.”

Qui-Gon didn’t answer, and if the silence seemed encouraging rather than disappointed, it appeared that Qui-Gon waited for something more.

“I see blue,” Obi-Wan finally said, weakly, not knowing what else to add, “and green.”

Too simple, he knew, but true.

When Obi-Wan chanced a glance at his Master, it was to find him smiling down from his greater height.

“Sometime the sea is blue,” Qui-Gon told him, his voice gentle and firm at once, “and sometimes it is green. But always, it is the sea.” His knelt in one smooth motion, and his fingers touched the surface of the water so softly that they didn’t stir a single ripple. He looked up at Obi-Wan then, and the gold of the sun was on his face. “Do you understand, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a long time. Finally he nodded, solemn and sure.

He would wield a blade of blue, his Master one of green, and together they would learn to work as one.

\---

One day, Obi-Wan will descend on death in a blaze of green.

He will be inexorable, like the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I'm [treescape](https://treescape.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


End file.
